“I’m with you, hey! The sun’s up. Get up and get going, then!”
Abbas turned his head and with an exhausted face and closed eyes screamed, “Why all this shouting? What’s it to you anyway? What do you have to do with my work? I don’t want to go to take the camels out anyway!”
Just then, the footsteps of Ali Genav’s cousin the camel-herd owner — or Sardar — echoed from over the wall and into the house.
“Hey! Abbas …! When are you planning to take the camels out, then? Noon?! The sun’s been up for a while! If you’re planning on doing this job of looking after the camels, they’d better be out and grazing before the sun shows its face!”
The giant Sardar turned the corner of the wall and entered the yard, coming toward the door with heavy steps, seemingly filling the yard with his huge weathered body. Hajer pulled herself away from the doorway. Still only half-awake, Abbas collected himself, crumpled up the bedding, smoothing out his rumpled clothes.
“Coming, Sardar. I’m coming.”
The Sardar’s wide shoulders filled the doorframe. Abbas dashed into the pantry and grabbed his knife and thrust it into his leggings, threw some bread and his water into a sack, took his walking stick, and presented himself before the Sardar. The man’s dark glare shone from beneath his thick, daggerlike eyebrows. He spit tobacco juice from the snuff beneath his tongue through his bushy moustache and beard, and said, “I just hope you didn’t wager my camels in your gambling.”
He turned away and began leaving. Abbas also left, following behind him. Hajer emerged out of a dark corner while Mergan circled around herself one more time. Then she gave a piece of bread to Hajer.
“Eat this.”
Hajer’s mouth was bone dry.
“Just try to chew it. If you don’t eat, you’ll faint before we reach town.”
Hajer put the bread in her mouth.
“Ready to go now?”
It was Ali Genav’s voice. Mergan replied, “Yes … there’s nothing left to take care of here.”
Ali Genav set his donkey’s tether on the top of the wall and stood back. Mergan took the wooden case in one hand and grabbed Hajer under the arm with the other and headed to the door. As Hajer stepped outside, she sensed Ali Genav’s breath on her cheek. He took the edges of the wedding chador in his rough fingers, so as to keep it from dragging on the ground. Mergan led the girl into the alley, while Ali Genav removed the tether from the wall and stood waiting for his bride. He had brushed his donkey, and he had thrown his only Baluchi rug over its saddle. Mergan and Hajer stood beside the animal. Ali Genav bent his left leg in front of Hajer, who was confused by this gesture. Mergan then took her under her arms and lifted her so her foot fell onto Ali Genav’s bent leg. From there, she was able to pull herself up onto the donkey. The first thing she felt was the softness of the carpet. As soon as she was settled, Ali Genav drew the donkey’s tether over his shoulder and set off.
Mergan followed behind to keep an eye on Hajer, who was grasping onto the back of the saddle with her hands, while her legs were tightly locked around the body of the animal. It was novel for a daughter of Zaminej village to ride a donkey this awkwardly. But this was due to the fact that even when Soluch had a donkey, the boys never gave Hajer a chance to ride on it.
As they passed the entrance to the narrow alley where Ali Genav’s house was located, Mergan involuntarily glanced over at the door to the house. The house’s entry was half-open, and his wife Raghiyeh was suspended in the doorway like an old tattered shirt, looking at them with her dead eyes. It was a look that shot like electricity through the very marrow of her bones. Mergan stole a look at her, and then hid behind the donkey as they walked on. She heard the crisp snap of the closing door, as if the woman had slipped to the ground sitting against the door as it closed.
Ali Genav was impatient. He thrust a hand into his pocket and brought out a handful of dried berries and walnuts and poured them into the loose edge of Hajer’s shirt. Then he tossed a few nuts into his own mouth and tugged on the donkey’s bridle.
Abbas was standing by the drain of the bathhouse and was tightening the band holding up his leggings. The Sardar was standing beside the drain a little farther down and was continuing to berate Abbas.
“A gambler’s not worth a black coin! I know people who have bet their own herd of camels while gambling!”
Abbas finished tightening his waistband, and then slid his knife into it.
“Well, they had a whole herd to gamble, Sardar. But me, what do I have to lose?”
“You? What about the pants you’re wearing? I’ve seen a gambler ante up his own ass in a game. So how much did you lose last night?”
Ali Genav was all too pleased to happen across his cousin, just to show off a little. He tugged at the donkey’s tether and approached the Sardar.
“Good morning, cousin!”
The Sardar looked over Ali Genav, his donkey, and the mother and daughter with him.
“Good. Well, well, so you’re heading out to town right now?”
“Need anything from there?”
“No, thanks. May you be blessed, and good luck.”
“Goodbye.”
Ali Genav continued on by Abbas and his cousin. Mergan stayed hidden behind her daughter, while Hajer shut her eyes as they went. But what for? Abbas didn’t even look over at them!
The four of them continued on, and Abbas and the Sardar set out. The Sardar picked up where he’d left off before.
“Eh? Well you didn’t say how much you’d lost!”
Abbas didn’t reply.
“So how much did you win, then?”
Again, Abbas didn’t reply.
“You think I don’t know what’s going on round here? Ha! Fine, I’ll stop asking you. But be careful and keep an eye on the dark male camel. He has a bit of a spring fever. That’s something to watch out for, I’ll tell you!”
The black camel he was speaking of was standing stiffly apart from the other camels that had gathered in the wide yard and under the curving vestibule leading to the gate. He was scratching his neck against the sharp edge of the wall, his lips were covered in frothy spittle, and there was a wild look in his eyes.
The Sardar drove the camels toward the vestibule and gate by waving the edge of his cloak, which he wore both in winter and summer. Abbas stood by the gate and waved the camels on with his walking stick. The Sardar followed the camels out of the vestibule and stood beside Abbas. Beneath his breath, he measured up the camels happily.
“Go on. Go, and may you be blessed!”
Abbas began to follow the camels.
“I won’t offer you any more than that, Abbas!”
“No worries, Sardar!”
Abbas said this and was lost from view in the bend of the alley.
The path was crowded. The young men who were leaving the village were sitting beside their trunks and sacks and were looking at the road ahead. They were still surrounded by their mothers and sisters, but no one was crying. Instead, the air was filled with a mix of excitement and anxiety, and both anticipation and hesitation flickered on their faces. What predominated, however, was the joking common to Zaminej’s youth. They were invariably laughing, shouting, and swearing at each other. They had special jokes they played on each other in just these sorts of gatherings. Some of them would bear the brunt of the jokes and would become upset, but their anger would quickly be subsumed in the waves of laughter sounding from those gathered around them.
Ali Genav began to lead his donkey down to the path. But soon, he was trapped in the crowd. And so it was impossible to shake off Hajj Salem and his son demanding wedding sweets from him. But Ali Genav refused to even put his hand in his pocket to placate them. So the youths found a new pretext for their high spirits. They goaded Moslem to collect his share of sweets from Ali Genav. Moslem became more and more riled up as a result. Morad had also joined in the game. But Abrau was standing to one side, where he was focused on listening and watching the road.